the rowers home are bound; they row
with purpose
each as sure as each
united in direction and belief
that home
is within reach
each rower solitary, each alone,
they pull
as one
their boats are scattered evenly, and all
towards the sun
each rower, facing backwards
contemplates
the wake, behind
the sea is fine like isinglass,
and endless to the eye and mind
the long haul calls not urgency
but confidence, and constant nerve
bending backs, with even pulls
steady toil, strength conserved
pull onward, towards a destination
none can see and none have known
a sea of scattered boats, a sea
of lookers back
and rowers home
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